


A Stupid Shape

by generalatomicsgalleria (charmingotter)



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 17:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14218437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmingotter/pseuds/generalatomicsgalleria
Summary: A soulmate AU where Deacon learns that he and MacCready share the same stupid shape of their soulmate mark





	A Stupid Shape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theviolinbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theviolinbow/gifts).



The small creaky house they had chosen as their watchpoint was silent for all of five minutes before MacCready interrupted the quiet once again. “This is stupid,” he said, plopping himself down in the chair on the other side of the room. “We’re not even doing anything.” 

“Thanks for reiterating that one for the thousandth, Macaroni.” Deacon rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, though still watched the door to the warehouse as vigilantly as ever. The man was about the most impatient person he had ever met. He made sure to make that clearer and clearer with every passing second. Deacon still didn’t know why Nora insisted so adamantly that the sniper join him on this stakeout. 

MacCready scowled, muttering something about not calling him that under his breath. Deacon ignored him- they were here for a reason, he intended to stay focused. Watch the raiders. See when it was safe enough for a small group to go in and get what they needed. 

They had only been here since the morning and they were gonna end up staying for at least a couple of days. There was no doubt in his mind it would be grueling. “Remind me again,” Deacon said, conversationally, “Why did our beloved savior of the Commonwealth think you needed to be here?” Surely she had mentioned a reason. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw MacCready shrug. “I dunno. She said something about us needing to ‘get along’.” He sighed loudly. “It was stupid. I don’t know.”

“Do we not get along?” Deacon asked. He didn’t love MacCready, that was for damn sure, but he didn’t think he was particularly unfriendly towards him. He finally turned to look back at MacCready. He had stretched his legs out onto the coffee table in front of him, leaning back in his chair with his hat over his face. “Or do you just not like me?”

MacCready pulled his hat down a little further. “I think _she_ thinks we don’t get along.”

Deacon hummed, turning back to lean towards the window he had been looking out. “Can’t imagine why she’s so desperate for us to be friends,” he commented lightly. Can’t imagine why she thought this would be a good way to do it either, but hey- who was he to question their great savior? MacCready just grunted in response though. 

After a while MacCready got up, saying something about going downstairs to get food. It was only moment later that Deacon heard a loud crash, followed shortly by MacCready yelling, “Ow!” 

Sighing, Deacon spared one last look at the warehouse before heading downstairs to see what the other man had gotten into now. “Do I wanna know?” He asked loudly, trotting down the stairs. He stopped midway, seeing MacCready sprawled out on the floor at the bottom, Sugar Bombs scattered about on the floor with him. He decided then he actually didn’t want to know what had happened. Nonetheless, he said, “You okay there, Macaroni?”

“No,” MacCready groaned, shutting his eyes. “My snack is ruined.” He groped at the box of cereal just a few inches out of his reach. 

Continuing his way down the stairs, and carefully avoiding stepping on most of the scattered cereal, he did a once over of the scene. “Yeah, that sucks. I assume your bodily functions are intact though?” He squinted over the top of his sunglasses. No limbs bent at awkward angles- probably nothing broken. Probably hurt like a bitch, but that was just how that went. 

MacCready hummed. “My head hurts.”

Deacon squatted down. “Did you hit it on something?” Taking his wrists in his hands he pulled him up, so at least he could look at the back of his head. 

“The floor,” MacCready sighed, pushing his hat off. “And the wall,” he added. “But mostly the floor.”

Deacon hummed, wondering how the man had survived as long as he had. “You feel tired?” He asked, moving his head with his head so he could look at the back of his head. Deacon winced when he did. He had a nice little goose egg popping up. That was better though. It was always better to have a bump. No bumps usually meant something bad. 

“Yeah, actually,” MacCready finally answered him. “Can I uh, go lay down or something?”

Deacon sighed, standing up. “Yeah, but you’re gonna have to stay awake.” He offered his hand so he could get to his feet at least. “C’mon, the bed’s this way.” He gestured for him to follow him around the corner. Thank God it wasn’t upstairs, he might have actually had to carry him the way he was shuffling after him now. 

The bedroom was tiny, its previous occupants were more concerned with having a big upstairs office than a bedroom. MacCready instantly flopped down onto the bed, seeming unconcerned by his injuries now. Deacon went round to the other side of it to open the window that was there before sitting down on the opposite side of the bed, setting his back against the headboard. He snapped his fingers at MacCready. “Hey, turn over. You gotta start talking or something. Gotta stay awake.”

With a great sigh, MacCready did as asked. “Why?”

That Deacon didn’t know. He had been told before, he had made Careington explain it to him when he was being given the same treatment as MacCready now, but the whole thing was a huge blur. He didn’t remove most of it. Apparently, head injuries were like that though. Unable to come up with a good lie he just said, “You know your name?”

“Robert J. MacCready.” A pause. “Is yours really Deacon?” He squinted over at him, almost mockingly suspicious. 

This was going to be an even longer evening than he thought it was going to be. “Let’s not get into things we shouldn’t,” he told him. “What year is it?” 

“2287,” he mumbled. 

“Why are we here?” Deacon asked, looking out at the reason in question. There still was no movement from the warehouse. At least none that he had seen. He was starting to wonder if they had the right place. 

“Nora said to be.”

It wasn’t exactly a wrong answer, but it wasn’t exactly the answer he was looking for though. Close enough, Deacon thought. “Who do you work for?”

“Nora,” MacCready said. After a second he added, “My head hurts.” He rubbed at the spot on the back of his head, wincing.

Deacon nodded. “Yeah, it’s probably gonna for a bit.” 

“Where’s my hat?” 

“On the floor where you left it.” A pause. “I’m not going to get it,” he told MacCready, already knowing that was going to be his next question. He was so attached to the damn hat, it was ridiculous. 

MacCready pouted- proving his point. “But I need it.” He sounded like a small child, whining for his favorite toy. 

Deacon shook his head. “You don’t.” What on earth was his attachment to that grimy hat?

“How would you feel without your glasses?” MacCready gestured vaguely at his face. “You never go anywhere without them.”

Deacon snorted, ignoring the comment. It wasn’t an equal comparison anyway. At least his sunglasses were stylish. “Why don’t we talk about something else,” he suggested. “Something not about our accessories.”

A moment passed, MacCready still rubbing his head and Deacon still watching out the window. “Do you have a soul mark?” MacCready asked quietly then. 

The question came completely out of nowhere. Deacon blinked over at him, the warehouse all but forgotten all of a sudden. “What?” He didn’t get asked that a lot. Most people didn’t want to know he thought. Not about him anyway. People were curious about him, sure, but they never asked about that. 

“A soul mark? You know the whole stupid soulmate thing some people have?” MacCready looked up at him questionably. “I’ve got one.” He shrugged.

Slowly, Deacon nodded. “Yeah.” It was on his shoulder; shaped like a wiggly triangle. The spot almost burned just at the mere thought. The only one to see it recently was Nora actually. 

MacCready nodded appreciatively. “Neat.”

“You just said it was stupid.” Deacon resisted the urge to laugh at him. He was going to have to talk to Nora about the stranger merchs she hired. She just kept finding more and more weirdos it seemed. Himself included, if he were honest with himself. 

“It is. Look at this,” he told him, pushing his sleeve up and shoving his skinny arm over Deacon lap. “It’s a stupid shape, don’t you think? I kind of hate it.”

Deacon could only stare. It was the same shape on his shoulder. He sucked in a deep breath, suddenly at a loss for words. “That uh, that is a stupid shape.” He shook his head, getting off the bed and going to stand next to the window. He had to keep watch, he reminded himself. And not panic. 

“What’s yours look like?” MacCready asked, still laying on the bed, though turned towards where Deacon stood now, oblivious to Deacon’s own revelation. 

Deacon huffed, now refusing to look back at him.“Just some stupid shape,” he answered. He didn’t need to know. Over the years Deacon had become very used to the idea that he didn’t want to find, and didn’t need, whoever his soulmate was. This didn’t have to change that. Not at all. He finally looked back at MacCready and sighed. _It wouldn’t change anything._


End file.
